Page 3 of Kill Shot

The Black Cobra

Nico

Nico stalked back into his apartment, his frustration dangerously close to boiling over. After a brief check of his traps to make sure that nobody had broken into the apartment, he took a few deep calming breaths and dialed a memorized number into his phone.

It was time to report in.

The line rang for a few moments, leaving him with entirely too much time to stew in his own irritation.

“Yes?” a bored voice said on the other end. “Is it done?”

“It is, Bolero,” Nico said tersely. “The deal went through. They needed some convincing, but they ultimately saw things from our perspective.”

“Deal? Ah, the deal,” Bolero said with a hearty chuckle. “Tell me, is that den still as filthy as I remember? Are they still wallowing in their squalor?”

Nico didn’t respond immediately. It would not do to explode in anger at his adoptive father, the Black Cobra boss himself, and his late uncle’s best friend who had taken Nico in after the massacre.

The man had handed over the reins of the gang to him and Lucas, though it still surprised Nico that Bolero had passed over his own blood.

Instead of putting Lucas in charge, he’d made Nico the underboss, with Lucas serving as his second.

“Yes.” He said nothing more for fear that his tenuous self-control would fail.

“Pretty funny, isn’t it? Pathetic how they can’t help themselves. I’ll bet all you had to do was threaten to cut off their supply.”

No matter how good Nico got at suppressing his own frustration, Bolero had always been even better at pushing his buttons.

But still he held on. It took a Herculean effort, but Nico managed to bite back his accusing questions.

Why did Bolero insist on dealing with wretched junkies that couldn’t be trusted as far as he could throw them?

They made for terrible business partners that failed to deliver just as often as they succeeded.

And he already knew exactly what Bolero would say.

He would point out that they are easy to manipulate and control, but the fact that Nico was here, reminding them of their obligations for the dozenth time in the last few years, proved just how unreliable they were.

A large part of Nico suspected that Bolero only kept them around because he was amused by how pathetic they were.

And, of course, because they made for a convenient way to frustrate his own people when he wanted to remind them of their place.

“It went fine,” Nico said instead. He kept reminding himself that this was Bolero’s drug deal, not his.

As long as Bolero didn’t interfere with his main mission, he could endure all the humiliation in the world.

“And what about the Altamirano boy?” Bolero asked casually, as if reading his mind. “How long until you put a bullet in him and hurry on home?”

“I told you, I’m not shooting him,” Nico snapped. “I did the drug deal the way you wanted. I arranged for those fools to get another six shipments, in spite of my better judgment. The deal was that if I do that for you, then I don’t get any interference at all when it comes to the Altamiranos.”

Bolero laughed, but there was no humor in it. If he was taken aback, then he didn’t show it.

“As you wish,” the head of the Black Cobra said. “But I expect you’ll fuck it up. You’re still planning on that idiotic ransom plan?”

“Yes, that’s right,” Nico forced through gritted teeth.

“Hmph, very well. Make sure you make use of Lucas. Can’t have you disgracing the family by fucking this up. It’s too important, and Pablo is very powerful, but I want to see him pay for what he did to my friend.”

There were a million things that Nico wanted to say to that, but he swallowed them all. Just a few more years. All he had to do was survive a few more years, then he wouldn’t have to deal with Bolero’s shit anymore.

And who knows? Maybe the bastard would get a little more agreeable after he retired.

“Remember your duty,” Bolero said softly. “Wouldn’t want your uncle to be disappointed in you from the grave, now would you, mijo ?”

Nico hung up, maintaining control right up until the line went dead. Then, he tossed his phone onto the couch and rolled up his sleeves.

It was a very good thing that he’d remembered to order a punching bag.

As his fists began to thud against the dense canvas, a face flickered to mind. Blond hair, classic rich boy looks, that infuriatingly innocent expression Sebastian always wore. He was too pretty for his own good, all clean-cut confidence and unsuspecting eyes.

Nico scowled, hitting harder.

It would be a shame to mar those good looks. But that was going to be unavoidable. Whatever it took, Nico would make sure Pablo Altamirano and his brat didn’t just taste hell. They’d choke on it.